


be my feast (something sweet to eat)

by MoraMew



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Biting, Clothed Sex, F/M, Finger Sucking, Hook-Up, Lite embarrassment kink, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shyness, Size Difference, Use of the C Word, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24459232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoraMew/pseuds/MoraMew
Summary: Osamu is hungry and Yachi is just what he needs.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 29
Kudos: 328





	be my feast (something sweet to eat)

**Author's Note:**

> this is...something

_She_ \- tiny and nervous and awkward under his gaze- is nothing like what he usually goes for.   
  
_She_ \- blushing and lip biting and unable to look him in the eyes- is so far from those he’s had in the past.   
  
_She_ \- reactive and trembling and holding back whimpers- is something he’s never given attention to before.   
  
That is a mistake, he’s realizing.   
  
Because _she_ \- small and timid and trying to shy away even as his fingers skim over the wetness that has soaked through her panties- has awoken something hungry in him.   
  
Something greedy.   
  
Something... _insatiable_.   
  
He is starving and _she_ is the heavenly feast before him- the one he will devour.   
  
A nip to her neck has her gasping- sharp and quiet with her thighs squeezing against his hand. She squirms, whimpering, and her cheeks flare with her- what? Embarrassment? Meekness? Excitement?   
  
She squirms, like it’s too much, but she doesn’t _really_ try to get away. She subjects herself to the way his fingers press against her crotch- demanding, impatient to feel that silken heat- and she whimpers as he sucks a hickey on her neck where everyone will see.   
  
But she doesn’t pull away- despite her trembling show, despite how she still can’t look at him when he tilts her chin up to view the flush across her face.   
  
She is so small and Osamu didn’t know he had a thing for that- not until now, not until he imagined picking her up and fucking her against the wall.   
  
He just might, maybe, but now he wants to do something else- fucking will come later.   
  
Osamu kisses her and it thrills him in some eager way how she gasps from it, how her fingers curl into his shirt even as she still clings to her shyness. He sucks her bottom lip, digs his teeth into that tender flesh and, when he pulls away to end the kiss, she- this bashful, breathing so shakily _Yachi_ he had somehow talked into coming upstairs- whimpers softly, tugs on his shirt as if she wants him to do it again even as she quivers under his gaze.   
  
_She_ is needy and so nervous- self-conscious even in her own desire.   
  
_She_ does not take control or push for more- her confidence is small and lacking compared to those he’s used to and Osamu feels satisfaction at the thought of not having to deal with the usual wrestle of control, the bawdy teases and the pressing of wills against his own.   
  
_He_ wants to take her and he wants to devour her- like a lamb, like a treat, like a _libation_ that’s just for him.   
  
And she’s going to let him- despite her squirming and her flushing and her shy eyes. She wants it- is soaked for it- even if she shudders underneath his touch and hunger.   
  
She’s offering herself to his greed even if she can’t handle her own.   
  
Osamu kisses her again and it’s rough- teeth nipping and hands gripping her hips, his tongue pushing to lick at at the edges of pearly whites.   
  
Her gaze is almost hazy when he pulls away once more and Osamu feels a certain satisfaction at that, wants to make her glaze over even more.   
  
He steps away from her and there is surprise on her face- eyes going wide and her lips parting as if she’s _disappointed_. That is satisfying too, but in a different sort of way and Osamu finds his lids lowering as he moves to kneel and watches shock and _want_ flicker over her reddened, delicate features.   
  
The size difference between them hits even more so once he’s knelt in front of her- his head is at chest height and it makes greed flare in him, makes his hunger grow a bit more _wild_.   
  
She is so _small_.   
  
He could envelop her so _easily_.   
  
Osamu scoots a few paces back to adjust for what he wants to do and Yachi makes some tiny noise- hands fluttering at her sides in awkward, uncertain movements. He ignores those movements and reaches a hand of his forward instead, grips the fabric of her skirt and pulls it up.   
  
The squeak that she lets out is cute, but his attention quickly discards note of it in favor of looking over plain, white, _drenched_ panties and slender thighs pressing together.   
  
“Os- Osamu-san-”   
  
“Hold this,” he tells her, ignoring her embarrassment and the way her breathing is starting to grow faster, more breathy.   
  
He tugs the skirt toward her hands and she whimpers quietly at the demand, flusters and stares at him with wide eyes. She doesn’t say no, though, and she bites her lip when he raises his brow, takes hold of her skirt with trembling fingers once his head tilts in hungry impatience.   
  
Yachi’s thighs are heated when he touches them- damp on the insides as he grabs them to pull them apart, _soft_ as he spaces them out of how he wants. She lets him- muscles tight and tense under his grip- and there’s a curious thought that flits through him over whether she’s done this before, if this is her first or second or third time.   
  
It doesn’t matter, really. All that matters is the way she breathes in sharp and quick when he leans forward and runs his tongue over her soaked crotch; all that matters is the way her hips twitch forward in a tiny, strained grind against his face.   
  
She is nervous, but she is eager too- she wants just as he does.   
  
Osamu hums, deep and low, and Yachi gasps, lets out something almost like a _yip_ whenever he tugs one of her slim legs over his shoulder.   
  
He might tease her, maybe, if he was more restrained and poised. He might draw it out and taunt her with slowness if he was more like his brother, perhaps.   
  
But he’s _not_ and he is _impatient_.   
  
And she- _she_ \- is as well.   
  
_She_ is warm and sopping and wanting- hips jumping when he tugs her panties to the side; the fabric clinging to her cunt with a sticky wetness.   
  
_She_ is gasping and trembling and quaking- a hand shooting out to grasp his hair once his tongue glides through heated, fluid silk and gathers up all the clinging need that has seeped from her.   
  
_She_ is grinding and whimpering and succumbing- back arching as he pulls her closer against his face, a whine leaving her as he works his tongue into his tight, torrid feast.   
  
Osamu drags his teeth over her clit and she _moans_ from it- discards her embarrassment as her hips roll against him, as she pants and falls into her own hunger.   
  
Osamu gets a glimpse of her- back curving with her pleasure, lips parted with her want, fingers grasping and tugging his hair with her need- in the mirror that’s to the side and he growls against her, digs his fingers into soft flesh and devours her as if she’s his last meal.   
  
She comes, quickly, and he eats her through it- doesn’t let her pull away even when she cries out over growing sensitivity. He only lets her go once she’s come again and he licks her juices from her lips, wipes off what he can’t get with his forearm.   
  
Her leg drops from his shoulder as he surges up to kiss her and he grabs onto her hips when she threatens to collapse from weak knees, holds onto them tight as he slots their mouths together.   
  
Osamu wonders if Yachi can taste herself on his lips, hopes that she does.   
  
She tastes _good_.   
  
Yachi whimpers into his mouth and he feels his neck start to ache from having to lean down to kiss her, grunts over it and is torn between liking the fact that he has to bend to suck her lip into his mouth and being irritated over the light pull from his pleasure.   
  
He decides to get more comfortable and wraps his hand around her wrist, tugs her over to the bed that belongs to his brother’s boyfriend.   
  
If the thought of making out on her friend’s bed bothers her, she doesn’t show it. Yachi merely gasps and flushes when he pulls her onto it, drags her onto his lap. She ends up in a perfect position- hips resting so his hard on is nestled against her still wet cunt- and Osamu breathes in a little hard over it, narrows his eyes in greed and grips her hips to drag her against him, rock over his need.   
  
A gasp, a mewl- her head drops as he pushes and pulls her in a grind against him. Her face is definitely hazy now- cheeks pink and eyes dark, lips parted with a man- and Osamu likes it, likes how easily she’s falling apart.   
  
When he lets go of her hips, they continue in their undulation and that gratifies him, has his pleasure multiplying as he pulls her down for a kiss. Her fingers twist into his shirt as she pushes into it- pushes her own greed into nipping and licking and molding their lips against one another’s- and Osamu is suddenly impatient to feel her small hands on him, to feel her nails digging into his chest.   
  
He surges up and it throws her off- has her letting out a small gasp as his hands find the hem of her shirt. He tugs it off without a word and pulls his own off after, dips his head down to lick between her shallow cleavage, dig his teeth into the tender flesh of her breasts. Her nipples are stiff when his tongue laves over those pink peaks- sensitive enough to have her crying out when he sucks them into his mouth, traces them with his teeth.   
  
Yachi’s hand finds his hair again and Osamu groans as tiny fingers tug and twist and pull. He presses his own fingers against her swollen lips and it’s a little surprising how quickly she sucks them into her mouth, gratifying how she whimpers around them and pokes her tongue through the spaces between his digits.   
  
It’s fucking _hot_.   
  
Osamu grunts when her teeth scrape against his middle finger and he pulls his fingers from her lips, nearly smirks against her skin when a soft whine leaves her. The whine turns into something startled when he pushes her backward onto the bed and then something soft, wanting when his fingers go between her legs, tug her panties to the side once more and press against her mound.   
  
She takes the first finger easily- gasping and blushing and turning her head from his carnivorous gaze.   
  
The second finger is a tight fit- something that has her back arching off the bed and her head tilting back with a moan. Osamu fucks her with those two fingers- curls them in her cunt and stretches them until she’s more loose, until she is whimpering and churning her hips against his hand.   
  
The third finger fits in tight like the second- spreading her open and drawing out a loud cry, pushing her insides apart and getting her to pulse around his digits as her breathing quickens, as her hand reaches over her head and grasps the covers tight.   
  
He works his fingers until she comes again- whining and near frantic as her hand shoots out to grasp his braced forearm, as her nails dig deep into his skin and she lets out something like a sob.   
  
Osamu likes that sound, likes her panting and trembling and still squeezing around his digits even as her body shudders and falls almost, but not quite limp.   
  
It’s a stroke to his ego, that sound, and now he thinks he understands why Atsumu delights in wrecking the shy little things that flutter around him when they go out to bars.   
  
He wants to hear that sound again. He wants to hear her succumbing to his greed, her pleasure.   
  
Osamu pulls his fingers from her and he brings them to his mouth. He sucks on them, revels in her taste, as he looks down at her with hooded eyes and Yachi shivers under his gaze, whines softly as he hungrily takes in her small form, the finger shaped bruises that are beginning to show on tiny hips, the flush on her face and chest, and the hickey that’s already so prominent on her neck.   
  
_She_ is soft and blossomed pink all over- tender and malleable and submissive to how he bites into her thigh, her breast, her throat.   
  
_She_ is whimpering and reactive- nails scratching over his back and her body twitching up against his with each bite given, each hickey sucked.   
  
_She_ is needy and broken with her own desire- all the shyness from before discarded and replaced with soft, mewled whines of _please_ and _I want…_   
  
_She_ is greedy and insatiable- hands trembling and pawing at him despite her three orgasms, hips rocking up to grind against him with a moan as she allows him to devour her.   
  
Her embarrassment is gone; her timidness is abandoned. She is not hesitant or anxious- she is the willing, earnest feast to his hunger. She is the divine, eager offering to his lust.   
  
_She_ is nothing like he’s had before- a delicate, unsure thing that can only accept her own greed and hunger once she’s given a taste of someone else’s.   
  
Osamu enjoys that, enjoys the way she breathes in quick and swallows hard when he unbuttons his pants, pulls his zipper down, takes his cock out. He’s hard, big and he wonders if he’ll fit in her, licks his lips in sharp, perverse greed when he lays his cock on her stomach and sees how large it is against her.   
  
Yachi’s eyes widen and it’s another stroke to his ego, something that has his desire sharpening. Pre-cum smears over her stomach as he moves to take his wallet out of his back pocket and he smirks when she whimpers, feels a heady pleasure when her eyes fall half-shut as he rips a condom packet open with his teeth.   
  
He rolls it on with a practiced ease and he moves so he’s pressing against a truly soaked hole. Osamu watches as he pushes into her- keeps himself controlled and slow- as he devours the way she cries out and arches, scratches her nails along the bed.   
  
Yachi is tight- loose enough to take him without too much of a stretch but still snug around him. He has to still himself once he’s inside and he grunts when she squirms, when she clenches around him.   
  
Fuck, it’s _good_.   
  
Osamu gathers his senses and he rolls his hips- fucks her with a slow, experimental grind that has a choked noise sounding from her. He picks up his pace once he is sure he won’t lose himself too fast and Osamu grunts as he rocks into her, as he watches the movement make small breasts bounce with the momentum.   
  
He _really_ likes that.   
  
He likes that and he likes the way her tiny fingers curl up next to her mouth, how her eyes fall shut and how she lays passively underneath him- taking what she is given and reaping pleasure from his greed.   
  
Osamu grunts and he grabs her hips, lifts them from the bed and burrows into her even _deeper_. The angle has her crying out and he runs his tongue over his teeth at the way she writhes from his fucking, mewls from the way he rocks into her tight, greedy cunt.   
  
“Os- Osamu-san! Osamu-san!”   
  
The cry of his name is almost too much to bear and Osamu growls as she begins to shake underneath him. When he pulls out from her, drops her hips onto the bed, she bleats out a protest. It gets lost when he flips her onto her stomach, though, and she whimpers as he braces himself over her, pulls her hips back up and fucks back in.   
  
_She_ is so small- tiny, tender lamb; prey and feast and bounty and indulgent treat.   
  
_She_ is so needy- sobbing thing that grasps at the covers and scrunches them into her fists as he presses her chest into the bed and ruts into her like something he’s determined to claim.   
  
_She_ is so greedy- whining little creature that rocks her hips back to meet his thrusts and cries out for _more! Please!_   
  
Osamu braces himself over her with one hand and he wraps the other around her throat. He drags her up by it, forces her back into an arch, and she sobs as his teeth find her shoulder and neck and back and ear. She shakes as he ravages her and she pulses around him when his teeth find her flesh, when he marks her with the greedy purpose of claiming her as _his_ to devour and take and taste for the night.   
  
Her body tightens, tightens, _tightens_ like a bow string with the arch of her back and he feels her quake in his grasp, feels her body clench and burst and fall apart as she is ripped through with _another_ orgasm. She falls limp in his hold- whimpering and trembling and only held up by his hand wrapped around her throat- and Osamu grunts as her pleasure wracks through her, as she pulses and throbs and thrums around his cock with white hot heat.   
  
He fucks and fucks and _fucks_ and then-   
  
“ ** _SHIT!_** ”   
  
His greed, his hunger, his lust twist and twine and come to a head- roar through him as he’s overcome with exquisite, intense, _burning_ pleasure. He wraps his arm around her small waist without thinking and he pushes her into the bed, presses his body flush against hers as he grinds and rocks and fucks through his orgasm.   
  
He feels, maybe, her coming again with a weak little flutter and it has him groaning against her, burying her face into her hair.   
  
It’s only after his pulse slows that he rolls off of her, flops onto his back and stares at the ceiling with heavy eyes, a panting chest.   
  
He rolls his head to look over at her once he’s caught more of his senses and he finds her flushed and soft and pleasure drunk- her cheeks and chest pink, her eyes dark and glazed, her breathing coming in soft, small gasps. She looks worn out and sated, tired and used and _satisfied_ \- nothing like the shy, anxious thing from the beginning of the night.   
  
He feels a hunger still when he looks over the marks he’s littered all over her body, but it is tired too- gorged yet lazily greedy.   
  
Osamu enjoyed himself, greatly, and he believes that she did too.   
  
A yawn comes from her and Osamu huffs softly, reaches out to brush some hair from Yachi’s face. She’s too drowsy to let any possible embarrassment rear its head and Osamu is happy to take advantage of that, happy to caress her cheek and fall back into his own sleepy, satiated bliss.   
  
He takes the time to pull off his jeans before he falls too into post-fucking lethargy and he watches as she pulls her panties back into place with slow hands. She fumbles for her shirt and Osamu snorts when she puts it on backward, grins lazily when she manages some soft, gentle embarrassment. She rights it eventually and Osamu finds himself disappointed when she’s covered up, when he can no longer see some of his marks.   
  
It’s quiet for a moment after that and they blink at each other, do nothing to break the silence.   
  
Osamu is the one to decide what to do and he tugs her to him once a yawn slips from her, pulls her to get under the covers and holds her against him.   
  
Yachi snuggles against him with a soft noise and it’s nice, that- very nice.   
  
He kisses her hair once she’s settled down and then they both drift off, they both fall to sleep.   
  


* * *

  
...she’s not there when he wakes up.   
  
Osamu sits up with a grunt and he looks around the room, vision blearily and something almost, nearly disappointed when he finds the bed empty beside him. He frowns at her disappearance, but he shrugs it off with a yawn as well- stretches his arms above his head and moves to get out of the bed.   
  
He wonders where Hinata slept, if he peeked into the room and saw them curled up together. He wonders if Yachi will be teased or not, how red her cheeks will get if she’s called out for the night before.   
  
The thought makes Osamu smile a little and he tugs his shirt on with something vaguely fond in his chest.   
  
It takes a moment for him to find his pants- for some reason they are folded and resting on Hinata’s computer chair. But, he tugs them on once found and leaves the room without any delay.   
  
It’s quiet in the apartment as he walks down the stairs and Osamu yawns again, feels his stomach rumble. There are beer bottles and snack wrappers and pizza boxes scattered about when he moves through the living room and he’s happy to find the others from the party snoring and piled onto each other.   
  
They can handle the cleaning; Osamu is happy to slip out and leave it all to them.   
  
He grabs his keys from the hook in the hallway once he slips onto his shoes and opens the door as quietly as he can. It’s bright out once he steps outside and Osamu squints as the sunlight assaults his eyes, scrunches up his nose and closes the as carefully as he can.   
  
He begins to walk once his eyes are adjusted and Osamu yawns as he begins to wander home, lets his mind drift as his feet follow a well trodden path.   
  
When had Yachi left?, he muses. How embarrassed was she when she woke up? How dark did she blush as she slipped out from the bed?   
  
...what would it have been like if she hadn’t woken up before him, fled from the apartment?   
  
Osamu didn’t have experience with morning afters featuring shy, sweet things. He knew how other persons might act- the confident, teasing, grinning ones he’s had over before. They would flirt and banter and talk their way into morning sex, would leave after to shower at their own homes- smirking and shameless. That’s what he’s used to; that’s what he knows.   
  
Some part of him wants to know how Yachi would have been, is curious to what would have awaited him if she had stayed.   
  
...it’s too late to know now.   
  
Osamu sighs, vaguely disappointed, and he rubs the back of his neck as he continues his amble toward home. When he arrives, the chirp of his phone has him pausing before his doorway and Osamu begins to dig his phone out of his pocket to see who is bothering him.   
  
He takes it out, but all interest in his text leaves him the moment a piece of paper comes flying out of his pocket along with his phone when he pulls it out. Osamu’s brow raises and he bends down to pick up the paper, unfolds it as curiosity mounts.   
  
_Thank you for last night_.   
  
Osamu snorts at the note, amused beyond belief, and he grins as he eyes the shaky, nervous handwriting and the tell-tale signs of words written and erased and written over again.   
  
He’s never had someone leave him a thank you note for sex before.   
  
That is...that is something.   
  
Osamu snorts, again, and he looks over the note, looks over the number that has been scrawled at the bottom. There is more underneath it and Osamu huffs over it, still grins at this little surprise that he did _not_ expect.   
  
_I don’t know if you want to- and it’s okay if you don’t!- but if you’d like to talk sometime, please feel free to message me._   
  
It is so polite and the heart underneath that next to her name is adorable. Osamu can’t help but be amused by it, can’t help but to let out a huff of fond laughter over this shy, awkward girl.   
  
Well...how is he to deny something that _sweet_.   
  
Osamu shakes his head and he smiles to himself, unlocks his phone and opens the messenger app.   
  
_She_ is nothing like he’s had before- timid and sensitive and delicate and soft and charming in her bumbling, shy way.   
  
And Osamu likes that- he likes that a lot.   
  
Smiling, Osamu unlocks his door and begins to type out a text, sets out to continue indulging in the new experience that is Yachi Hitoka.

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly don't know where this came from or what it even is, but i Like Them and i had to get this out of my system


End file.
